An Application of Honey
by RueThisDay
Summary: The burn marks still shine through. Modern day AU. For Shady; Merry Christmas!


**An Application of Honey**

**For Shady**

* * *

**'An application of honey to the burnt skin will aid in the healing process.'**

**- _home remedies for you_ on how to heal a burn.**

* * *

Her heart pounds as she presses her delicate finger onto the doorbell of Shepherd House Care Home's front door.

_How did I get here? she wonders, her eyebrows creasing in the middle at the thought.  
The question brings_ on memories that are damaging to her already-low morale and confidence, so she tries to think of something else.

Just as she concentrates on happy thoughts, the door opens, revealing a tall, muscular boy with short, blonde hair.

"Um..." She stops. What should she say? "Um... I'm Rue." Her voice is barely a whisper. "I'm here for, um..."

How should she finish that sentence? Here for the refreshments? The hospitality?

"You're the new girl, yeah?" the boy asks. She nods meekly.

"Ok."

He lets her into the office, a scarily white room that Rue is scared to touch anything in for fear of contaminating it.

When she at last emerges, the blonde boy is gone.

But five other tall people are there.

They take one look at Rue, exchange glances that read terrifyingly clearly, even to her, and smile maliciously, making Rue shiver where she stands, knowing exactly what they plan to do and praying to the God she knows can't help her to just try to save her.

But if He does hear her silent prayer, it goes unanswered as the five threatening beings creep ever closer. Rue can see their very thoughts. She winces early, bringing her arms up in a poor attempt to cover her face.

But the scorching cold burn of pain doesn't come like she thought. Instead, she hears an almost familiar voice, cursing the tall ones (with rather strong language, actually) and sending them back to whatever hole they crawled out of with whispers of "sorry, Cato."

The voice saved her, but when she opens her eyes, there isn't a single person in sight, let alone Cato, whoever he is.

* * *

In her short lifetime, Rue has seen too many things for a girl her size; enough awful things to set her mind on edge permanently.

Even in her sleep.

Every night, it is the same dream; the same images over and over.

Every night.

In the last home, they had to move her to the basement so she wouldn't wake the other kids.

However, it seems that whoever sorted out her transfer forgot to mention this, as this room is in the very centre of the house.

Rue doesn't bother to unpack her stuff in this room. It means the room isn't welcoming with its blank walls, but it was never going to be, was it?

* * *

She was right; they move her after only one night, and she sleeps in the basement after that.

* * *

_The heat glares down, a strange occurrence in her town, and even more so in her house. Rue can feel the sweat trickling down her back like a tiny river and for once her hair stays back from her face when she pushes it out of her eyes._

_Her breaths start to come more heavily and in short gasps as she searches room after room in the sudden thick darkness._

_How come it's so dark, but still so hot?_

_It doesn't make sense, and the world keeps spinning slightly, putting her off balance and slowing her down._

_All she knows is that she must keep going; she must find them._

_Find who? Or what? It doesn't make any sense._

_Suddenly, the door slams shut behind her, the handle too hot to touch._

_And the thick darkness is creeping closer._

_And Thresh isn't there to be her brother anymore, no matter how much she screams his name._

_And no one can help._

_And  
All  
Is  
Lost._

* * *

And then she wakes up, coughing on imaginary smoke and screaming about long-gone dangers that never quite left. Her breath sounds like she's just been running, but she can't have; it's the middle of the night.

Besides, running doesn't make her cry.

Normally.

But every time she closes her eyes, there is the figure of her comatose sister, only two years old. Or the body of eight-year-old Rye, her eyes staring up at Rue through the smoke but not seeing her. Or the twins' tiny stone place-markers, as identical as the children themselves were.

She only realises she is crying onto someone's shoulder when she recoils at his hand on her back and hears his soft voice, telling her that she's ok, that everything is fine.

When she has finally calmed down, he whispers, "who is Thresh?"

"My brother," she replies, her voice not much more then a sigh, even quieter than when she first met him at the door. "As are Lorus and Orien - they're twins. Rye is my sister." She pauses to sniff. "Was."

The last word hangs in the air between them like smoke; heavy, thick, full.

"Did all of your siblings die?"

"No, my one-year-old brother, Paine, is in hospital with my sister Fabia. She's two." There is another pause before she finishes. "Two-year-olds shouldn't be in a comatose state." She doesn't normally yell.

"Ten-year-olds shouldn't have seen so much horror that they wake up screaming every night," says the boy.

She frowns up at him in the thin dawn light.

"I'm twelve."

"I'm Cato, pleased to meet you, Twelve."

She rolls her eyes. "Hilarious."

He just looks at her for a second, weighing up her tiny frame and sad eyes behind his own blue eyes. She's never seen them look understanding before.

Then he leans forward and wraps his arms around her, so tight she thinks she'll never breathe out again.

But, really, she doesn't care.

Because this Cato - this tough stranger who has let down his walls to help her build up her own - has filled a hole in her heart.

The hole where Thresh used to be.

And maybe - just maybe - there could be a happily ever after.


End file.
